Time Bomb
by anatagasuki
Summary: Hanagata always knew it's only a matter of time before he explodes. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Time Bomb  
Author: anatagasuki  
Summary: Hanagata always knew it's only a matter of time before he explodes. Two-shot.  
Disclaimer: Not mine, or Fujima would've done a lot more than just public butt-slapping.

There was no warning.

No premonition. No _tick-tick-ticking_ of a timer, no flashing countdown, no quick successive _beeps_. There wasn't even a _boom_. No glass shattering, no fragments of concrete messing the place.

It wasn't an explosion. It was an _implosion_.

He didn't have to undergo shock, because he wasn't shocked at all. No matter how much the bespectacled honor student slash reliable vice-captain slash overall calm and composed man that was Toru Hanagata denied it, at the back of his mind, he always _knew_.

He's always _seen_ it.

The way his nimble legs and arms would bound and stretch, the muscles straining under the flushed, sweaty skin. The way he would have the entire team hanging onto his words, a walking and talking mockery to all those the Shoyo basketball team has seen before. The way his eyes would flash under the bright lights of the court, glinting shards of glass dangerous and boding. Someone as lithe as a leopard, 178cm of fire and brilliance ready to conquer the world.

Every day is a step closer to _claiming_ him.

But he tried, oh, he tried _hard_. He fought that monster, frantically fumbled to turn the timer in reverse countdown. He focused on his studies, his calculus and his Asian literature and the infinite digits and words. He fucked several all-too-willing girls. And when the situation really called for it, he skipped practice for hours of his trembling hands pumping on his own. He sacrificed _basketball_. A blasphemy, really.

He swore he would _not_ give up.

But it was inevitable.

So he walks up to him on a Friday night, with a perfectly logical invitation to help in his upcoming exams. He drives his car, hands steady, mind intact. He carefully turns the knob, watches his slim but solid back against the city lights, locks the door behind them and shuts the light.

And when he has Fujima's hands desperately pressed on the glass wall of his flat, when he sees Fujima's flustered and gasping face on the semi-reflective surface, when he hears Fujima's livid growl rip out of his throat, he understands that he's not giving up, he's just _giving_ _in_.

* * *

Notes: This is my first HanaJima fic (yep, I totally made that up). Hope I didn't end up killing this small fandom (if I hadn't yet, well, there's still chapter 2).


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Time Bomb  
Author: anatagasuki  
Summary: Hanagata always knew it's only a matter of time before he explodes. Two-shot.  
Disclaimer: Not mine, or Hanagata will have a whole lot more cameo appearances.  
Notes: Second chap up. It's so short that if I wore it to the beach, I'd be called indecent.

To mrsklemzak: Thanks! I do want to write more, but well, to put it simply, I suck at writing long stuff. I don't have much dedication and drive. Most of my fics are spur of the moment creations. Anyway, I hope you'd appreciate this final chap.

There was no warning.

No preparation. No attempting to run for escape, no crouching down to protect himself from the raging balls of fire flying _everywhere_. But there wasn't even a _boom_. There was no mess, except for the one only they can see.

He didn't cower and hide. He let the flames consume.

He didn't have to undergo shock, because he wasn't shocked at all. No matter how much the exceptional point guard slash in control basketball manager and captain that was Kenji Fujima denied it, at the back of his mind, he always _knew_.

He's always _felt_ it.

The way other players would shrink in the face of his impenetrable defensive form, the muscles hard and powerful in the towering build. The way he would live his life with impassioned excellence, betrayed only by black fire in his eyes. The way he would stare at him, like he was stripped off of his clothes, his pride, his sanity, down to the _animal_ that he was. Underneath the flawless sheet of ice, the waters rush into darker depths. And sometimes he was a bit afraid.

Sometimes, he was tempted.

But he tried, oh, he tried _hard_. He fought that monster, tripped all over himself trying to fix what was _wrong_ with him. He focused on the team, barking orders and inventing pep talk. He fucked several all-too-willing girls. And when the situation really called for it, he ordered Hanagata to skip practice and subtly set him up with his own fling. He sacrificed _basketball_. A blasphemy, really.

He swore he would _not_ give up.

But it was inevitable.

So he walks up to him on a Friday night, with a perfectly logical request to discuss and resolve what transpired between them on what seems like light years ago. He steps into the locker room, watches Hanagata's need stare back at him, locks the door and shuts the light.

And when Hanagata tears off his green Shoyo coverlet and jersey shorts, when Hanagata rids him of the dirt and the _filth_, when Hanagata wraps four strong and steady fingers around his throat, he understands that he's not giving up, he's just _giving_ _in_.


End file.
